


Full Disclosure

by Saziikins



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: M/M, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-12
Updated: 2015-12-12
Packaged: 2018-05-06 09:27:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5411609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saziikins/pseuds/Saziikins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lestrade invites John to the pub for a talk about Sherlock. But how will John handle the news that his best friend and Lestrade are now more than friends?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Full Disclosure

**Author's Note:**

> I've been feeling a bit bitter in the past few days, so I'm channelling my frustrations into fic rather than any specific people. Look at me being an adult. As with one or two other works, this isn't John-friendly. I try to like him. I do. But I don't. So, it's a bit John-bashy, but hey, I love Lestrade. And John gets plenty love, he doesn't need it from me. 
> 
> This is set post season three in some universe where Mary isn't perfect but she's not the ultimate baddie either.

The pub was close to packed. He took a second to adjust to the din and the smell of stale beer. He did a quick sweep with his eyes, before catching sight of Lestrade on a small round table in the corner, pint in one hand, halfway to his mouth, mobile in the other. He had a small smile on his face, an amused glint in his eye.

John weaved his way through the crowd, and it was only when he stopped dead behind the spare stool that Lestrade finally looked up from his phone. “Bought you a pint,” he said, gesturing to the other drink.

John nodded a thanks as he took Lestrade’s coat off the spare seat and sat down. Lestrade’s attention was back on his phone. He was typing out a message, a sly grin on his face as he hit send and tucked his mobile back into his jacket pocket. “Sorry,” he said, smiling. “Rude of me.”

“It’s fine,” John replied, having a sip of his pint, hoping it would wash away some of the apprehension he felt. It was too unusual to be invited out for a drink by Lestrade. Never once had it happened. “Cheers for the drink.”

“Yeah, you’re welcome. It would probably take you half an hour to get one now. I didn’t realise it would get so packed.”

“It’s Friday.”

“Yeah, I suppose,” Lestrade agreed, taking a swig of his beer before putting the glass down. “You alright?”

“Yeah.”

“Baby good?”

“Everyone’s fine.”

“Great.” Lestrade smiled. “Good.”

They both turned their attention to their drinks, but the silence and tension lingered, even when a group of men burst out laughing from the table near by. 

“You had something you wanted to say?” John prompted. 

“Yeah. I had a…” Lestrade shrugged. “You know what, it’s not really important.”

John eyed him for a moment. “Okay.”

Lestrade’s phone beeped. He smiled apologetically. “Sorry,” he said, fishing it out. He read the message and laughed. “Your best friend’s a nutter, you know that?”

“That’s Sherlock?” John asked, frowning. “He’s texting?”

“Mmm.” Lestrade smiled. He looked back at John. “So, there’s this place in the UK where they put loads of dead bodies in different conditions to see how fast they disintegrate. And I managed to convince them to let Sherlock go and do some experiments there, so he’ll be there for a few days.”

“Oh. He said something about that.”

“Yeah, I think he was trying to be cool about it, but actually I think he was pretty excited to go.” Lestrade began typing a reply. “The baby good?”

“You asked that already.”

Lestrade paused and looked back up from his phone. “Right, sorry. Yeah, I’m bit distracted, sorry. Hang on, let me tell his royal highness I’ll need to ignore him for a bit, and then you’ve got my full attention.” 

“Sherlock’ll hate that.”

“Sherlock will have to put up with it. Anyway, it's good for him.” Lestrade flashed John a quick grin then turned back to his phone. “Right, it’s on silent now.” He held up his phone to prove his point and then tucked it away. “You’ve got my full attention.”

John shook his head. “It’s fine.”

Lestrade shrugged. “Yeah, I know, but I invited you. I guess you must be wondering why I…”

“A bit,” John admitted. “We don’t usually…” He waved his hand noncommittally. 

“Yeah.” Lestrade pulled a face. “I don’t know why we don’t. We get on, we should be able to go down the pub and chat like normal people.”

“I have a baby now.”

“Yeah, you do. How’s it with Mary now?”

John swallowed and stared into his pint. “We talk.” 

“You might work it out. Takes time, but god knows, I forgave my missus enough times. And… well, what Mary did… Whatever she did, she didn’t do it to you.”

“She shot Sherlock and lied to me. And when she said she’d stopped lying… she still lied.”

“She never stopped loving you, though, did she?”

John pulled a face. “I don’t want to talk about this.”

Lestrade bit his lip. “Sure, sorry. Of course.”

They fell silent, Lestrade reaching the last quarter of his pint. He put it down and leaned back in his seat. He took a breath. “So. Sherlock doesn’t know I’m here doing this right now.”

John frowned. “Doing what?”

“Talking to you about this.”

“About what exactly?”

Lestrade hesitated. “You and Sherlock.”

John scoffed. “For god’s sake. Not you as well. I thought you were better than that.”

Lestrade hummed and leaned forward on the table. “I wouldn’t normally say anything. Except Mrs Hudson makes comments sometimes and… I thought someone ought to sit you down and talk to you about it. So I thought, man to man, we’d get a beer in and we’d put the cards on the table. So. You and Sherlock.”

“I’m not gay.”

“And not bi?” Lestrade asked. 

“I’ve made it clear that I’m not… me and Sherlock… Just. No.”

“No? Never?”

John narrowed his eyes, folding his arms across his chest. “I’m not going to run after him tonight to this science place and admit anything to him, no.”

Lestrade half smiled. “Didn’t think you were. I don’t know. Get a few beers down you, a night out at Christmas… And you’re sure you’ve got absolutely nothing to say to him?”

“I. Even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you about it.”

Lestrade raised his eyebrows. “Alright then.”

John rolled his eyes. “So, this is it then? That’s what you wanted me here for?”

“No. Not… not really.” Lestrade licked his lips. “Truth is. Oh, for god’s sake, this shouldn’t be hard to say.” He looked John square in the eye. “Look, I needed to know. To check you weren’t planning on…” He waved his hand. “You love him, in lots of ways, and I imagine some of those ways are complicated and confusing. I’ve been there, got all the t-shirts, he’s Sherlock. He’s oblivious to everyone’s feelings, and yet he doesn’t stop being so… so…”

“So Sherlock?”

Lestrade smiled. “Yeah, he’s Sherlock alright. He’d kill me if he knew I was here doing this right now.”

“Doing… what?”

“Things happen. Sometimes. And… you can’t always predict… Look, I am bisexual. I’ve always been happy with that, actually. I’ve never hidden it. And obviously when he came back… well, you had Mary and we… me and Sherlock got closer.”

John blinked. “Right. If you’re asking for my permission to…”

“No, I’m not. Because the thing is… Well, the thing is. Well, look, things have happened now already. A lot of things. And I’m absolutely head over heels for him. And, dare I say it, in that very Sherlock way of his, I think the feeling’s mutual.” 

John watched him closely. Somehow the noise of the pub seemed to dim. He could only hear the beat of his heart, and Lestrade’s words.

“Thing is,” Lestrade continued. “I’m always going to be a little bit worried you’re not going to be happy for him. Because you don’t… well, let’s face it, you don’t really like it when he focuses on someone who isn’t you.”

“That isn’t…”

Lestrade raised his eyebrows. “No? So, the reason you haven’t spoken to Molly since Sherlock came back is the fact that you don’t like her?”

John stayed quiet.

“You don’t talk to her, because she knew Sherlock wasn’t dead all along,” Lestrade continued. “And because Sherlock confided in her, not you, when it came to Moriarty. This isn’t a competition, John. I’m not here telling you he’s mine, or asking you to back off or spend less time with him than I do. But if he’s happy, then you’ve got to just let that be.”

“You… You and Sherlock?”

“Yeah.”

“But he doesn’t…” John bit his bottom lip. “He doesn’t. People. He doesn’t want them in that way.”

“In what way?”

“You know. The way two people in a relationship are.”

“Christ,” Lestrade muttered. “For his best friend, I thought you knew him a bit better than that. Sherlock Holmes has feelings, you know? So many bloody feelings, he’s practically swimming in them. Do you seriously not realise that?”

“He isn’t like most people.”

Lestrade let out a sardonic huff of laughter. “No, you’re right, he’s not. But he does need to be loved, and he does need to be taken care of, and he does need to be held and told he’s worth it. For god’s sake, John, he didn’t even realise he was going to be your best man.”

“Because he doesn’t feel things like…”

“No, he feels _so much_ that he doesn’t think he’s worthy of _anything_. When you met, you kept telling him how brilliant and amazing he was. And people thought you were just making his ego worse. Do you know what I thought? I thought ‘thank god’. Someone is here to show Sherlock Holmes that not only has he got a great mind, he is deserving of praise. And then… well, he faked his death, and you didn’t forgive that.”

John felt his chest tighten. “I don’t need.” He pressed his index finger down on the table. “You. Here, now. I don’t need you to come here and tell me about how I should be. We’re friends. Closer than… Well. Closer.”

Lestrade raised his eyebrows. “Closer than me and Sherlock will ever be?”

John stayed silent.

“You’re jealous,” Lestrade murmured. “I’m not trying to steal him from you, John.”

“He’s not mine to steal.”

“Well, I know that. Look, I’m not stupid enough to think that because he’s acting this way with me now, he always will. This could all be some big game or an experiment, but… I really don’t think it is.”

“How do you know?”

“How do I know it’s not an experiment?” Lestrade reached into his pocket and retrieved his phone. He handed it over.

John paused for a moment before looking down at the messages from Sherlock. 

‘ _This body farm is full of data. You need to give me your cold cases. This information throws some of them wide open. You should have come. I’d have spent most of it working, admittedly, but I might have found an hour for you. Perhaps two hours. Maximum. Join me? SH_ ’. 

John took a deep breath, flicking his eyes over Greg’s light-hearted reply. ‘ _Miss you too. I’ll let you have your fun there. You’ll appreciate me more after a few days apart_ ’.

‘ _I’ve solved the Regis case. Unfortunately, the scientists here don’t care about that, and I know you do. It turns out solving cases is better when you’re with me. SH_ ’. 

‘ _That’s because I make you feel smart_ ’.

‘ _Because I am smart. I have to tell you something when I get home. But I don’t want to unless you can say it back. SH_ ’.

‘ _Trust me, Sherlock, I can say it back_ ’.

‘ _Well then. Until I come home. Leave me alone now, I’ve got lots of work to do. SH_ ’.

‘ _I love you, Sherlock_ ’.

‘ _Shut up. You’re not supposed to say that until I get home. SH_ ’. 

‘ _I’m just down the pub. I’ll text you when I’m home. And I’ll see you in a few days_ ’.

John swallowed and passed the phone back over. “He loves you,” he murmured.

Lestrade glanced down at his texts, a soft smile on his face. “Yeah, I think so.”

John took a long breath. “I won’t. I won’t get in your way,” he finally murmured. 

“And I won’t hurt him. And I’m sorry if this is hurting you.”

John paused and finished his pint. He stood and collected his coat. “I. I love him.” He frowned and met Lestrade’s eyes, the words spoken for the first time. Lestrade was watching him with nothing but sympathy on his face.

“I know, mate,” he said softly. 

“I never told him. Do you think…”

“I think he loved you once,” Lestrade said, biting his lip. “I think he did. But I’m asking you. Man to man. Please let us have this.”

“I won’t get in your way,” John promised. And as he turned away, zipping his coat back on, he looked back over his shoulder to where Lestrade was now holding his phone to his ear. 

“Hey you,” he heard Lestrade say over the rumble of conversation in the pub. “What do you mean you’re coming back tonight? Yeah, of course I’m pleased. Takeaway? Consider it done. See you tonight. I’ll be up.”

John swallowed and began to leave the pub. He wouldn’t get in their way, he thought. 

And hell, he didn’t think he could now. Even if he tried.


End file.
